


blood, love, and rhetoric

by isozyme



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: Absurdist Tragicomedy, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Existential Angst, M/M, Pastiche
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:28:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24780847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isozyme/pseuds/isozyme
Summary: Something’s wrong with causality. Beyond the academic.Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, Steve/Tony style.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 26
Kudos: 99
Collections: Team Angst





	blood, love, and rhetoric

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the SteveTony Games bingo square “Steve’s Dog Tags,” emphasis on the extra prompt “4th wall breaking.”
> 
> With apologies to Tom Stoppard.

A PLAY IN ONE ACT

_Two_ SUPERHEROES _passing time in a place with no particular relationship to New York City, save for a sign that says "Downtown Manhattan." The billionaire industrialist_ Tony Stark, aka Iron Man ( _hereafter_ "TONY") _is wearing a businessman’s suit and a neat goatee;_ Steve Rogers, aka Captain America ( _hereafter_ "STEVE") _is in a white t-shirt and high waisted khakis._ TONY _has a clipboard and is recording numbers as_ STEVE _rolls a six-sided die on the ground, calling out the numbers._

STEVE: Six.

_He rolls again._

One.  


_Again._  


Six.

TONY ( _scowling at his notes_ ): I’m starting to doubt these numbers are random.

STEVE: Really? How so?

TONY: Well, true randomness is a difficult matter to achieve. One could say the fall of the die is predestined by the physics of two objects striking each other at a particular speed and angle. A computer takes a seed number and applies an algorithm to create apparent randomness, or uses the time as a starting point, some external data. Even an irrational number, we don’t know if pi ever —

STEVE: You’re making this too complicated. Why are we doing this?

TONY: Something’s wrong with causality. Beyond the academic.

STEVE ( _rolling the die again_ ): One.

_Again._

Two.

_Again._

One.

_Again._

Eight.

STEVE _picks up the die to roll it again._

TONY: Wait!

STEVE: What?

TONY: It’s a six-sided die. It doesn’t go up to eight.

STEVE: It was eight.

TONY: I don’t like this.

_He flips through his notes, frowning._

STEVE ( _back to rolling the die, muttering the numbers to himself_ ): One, six, one, zero —

TONY: See! There it is again!

STEVE _has already picked up the die this time as well._

STEVE ( _turning the die around in his hands looking at all the sides_ ): I think I see what you mean.

TONY: There are other things I don’t like.

STEVE: Let’s have it then.

TONY: How old are you?

STEVE ( _confidently_ ): About a year younger than you are, discounting the ice.

TONY: But what’s the number?

STEVE ( _less confident_ ): Depends how you count, I suppose.

TONY ( _getting upset_ ): I don’t remember what year I was born in!

STEVE: Well, all right, let’s start from where we are now and work backwards. I think you look… ( _He squints._ ) About thirty-five. Which makes me thirty-four. What’s this year minus thirty-five?

TONY: Mid-eighties.

STEVE: So that’s when you were born.

TONY ( _musing_ ): How have I been filling out my taxes without this information?

STEVE ( _suddenly concerned now that he’s considering the civil responsibility of paying taxes_ ): How have _I_ been filling out my tax forms?

TONY: I think SHIELD and the Maria Stark Foundation have been taking care of that for you.

STEVE ( _calmer_ ): Oh, good. I heard TurboTax is a scam.

TONY _laughs._

STEVE ( _suddenly_ ): I thought of another way to work out when you were born.

TONY: Oh?

STEVE: Tell me what you remember about when you created your first armor, where you were, who you were fighting, and I’ll find a history book — ( _he casts about for books on the stage, finds none, and shrugs_ ) — and look up the dates of operations by the US in that region.

_A moment._ TONY _stares into the audience, looking increasingly distraught. His mouth works silently._

STEVE: Tony?

_He comes over and puts a hand carefully on_ TONY’S _shoulder._

TONY: I wasn’t captured twice, was I?

STEVE: No?

TONY: I remember jungle and desert. Vietnam and Afghanistan. But it only happened once. I don’t know how that’s possible.

STEVE _bends to pick up the die where he’d left it on the floor._

STEVE ( _showing TONY the die_): It’s like the eight.

TONY _takes the die wordlessly, examines every side._

TONY: Vietnam or Afghanistan. And Yinsen was there both times. A man can’t die twice, can he?

STEVE _shrugs and starts counting on his fingers. He’s trying to remember how many times he and TONY have died and come back. He keeps getting stuck, trying to decide which deaths count, and starting over._

TONY: Bad question.

STEVE: More complicated than it looks on the face of it.

TONY: I’m afraid I’m feeling a touch untethered. What if facts aren’t stable? What do we have then? What guides us, without truth?

STEVE: Justice?

TONY: Just us, maybe.

STEVE: Ah.

_A long moment;_ STEVE _meets_ TONY’S _eyes, sharing his unease. He hooks one finger under the collar of his shirt and pulls out his dog tags. He examines them, then whistles lowly in relief._

STEVE: I was beginning to worry they would have someone else’s name. But look — Steven Rogers.

TONY _leans in, takes a close look while_ STEVE _stands patiently._

TONY ( _still examining_ STEVE’S _dog tags_ ): Is anyone watching?

STEVE _turns his head to the audience, stares for a beat._

STEVE ( _lying_ ): No.

TONY ( _in a whisper_ ): What do you think they want us to do next?

STEVE ( _still gazing out at the audience_ ): Whatever is most realistic for us to do in this scenario, would be my guess. Something in character.

TONY: Character is difficult to assess from the inside. Maybe my character is flawed in the realm of introspection.

STEVE: I could assess you.

TONY ( _forgetting his worries to seize the opportunity to flirt_ ): Yes you could, handsome. ( _He pauses, re-considers. He and_ STEVE _still stand close together, center stage._ ) Was that in character?

STEVE _tears his gaze away from the audience to look into_ TONY’S _eyes._

STEVE ( _softly_ ): I think you’ve said similar things before, which means it must have been.

TONY _tugs gently on_ STEVE'S _dog tags, and_ STEVE _goes with the motion. They’re almost nose-to-nose._ TONY'S _head tilts to the side, and_ STEVE'S _mouth opens, prepared to kiss him, and then they hit an invisible wall. Both freeze, unnaturally still. A beat._ TONY _shakes free, frowns, and tries again. Again, there’s a line they can’t cross. After a moment of struggle,_ TONY _releases his hold on_ STEVE, _and now it’s his turn to stare outward into the audience. He’s visibly piqued._ STEVE _scrubs one hand over the bottom half of his face._

TONY: Do you ever feel that there are parts of yourself you never see? That are always covered in shadow?

STEVE _coughs into his fist and looks unsubtly at_ TONY'S _crotch._

STEVE: I’ve noticed.

TONY: Fig leaves.

STEVE: Tastefully placed.

TONY: We should try something systematic… Maybe — say a dirty word. Not a cop out like _gosh-darn_ or _heck_ ; a proper swear.

STEVE ( _thinking for a moment, then deciding_ ): Okay, how about — 

_The sign that says "Downtown Manhattan" falls to the floor. An exaggerated sound effect plays of a massive clatter, drowning out the sound of_ STEVE _saying fuck._

____

TONY ( _disgruntled_ ): Could be a coincidence. Well, all experiments bear repeating. Go again?

____

STEVE: Sure, I suppose. Son of a —

_The sound effect plays again, even though the sign has already fallen._

TONY: Seriously?!

_He pulls the die out of his pocket and throws it at the audience, angry, then sits down at_ STEVE'S _feet and puts his head in his hands._

STEVE: Maybe...when the lights go down. When there’s no one to see.

TONY ( _hollow_ ): I don’t know that I’d exist without anyone looking.

STEVE: I’m looking at you.

TONY ( _bitter_ ): You don’t count. We should pull one of them up here, see how they like it.

STEVE _sits down next to_ TONY, _puts his hand on his back. The audience shifts uncomfortably as the house lights come up dimly and an usher walks down the aisle, as if looking for someone to pick._

AUDIENCE MEMBER 1 ( _whispering a touch too loudly_ ): This is too pretentious for me, I don’t get it.

AUDIENCE MEMBER 2: Dude, shut up, or you’ll get put in the script.

STEVE: No, we ought to leave them be. ( _He fiddles a bit with his dog tags._ ) I think these will stick around, even in the dark. ( _He pulls them off over his head._ ) Do you want to hold them?

TONY _takes them silently, slips the chain over his head, and wraps one hand around the tags. He leans into_ STEVE’S _shoulder, then raises his free hand, takes a deep breath, and snaps his fingers._

  


_The lights go out._

FIN

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Blood, Love, and Rhetoric](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25115248) by [hopelesse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopelesse/pseuds/hopelesse), [isozyme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/isozyme/pseuds/isozyme), [wynnesome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wynnesome/pseuds/wynnesome)




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